The war drums were beating steadily. Ba rum. Ba rum.
William heeded the drum's command, so did his fellow archers. William plucked an arrow from his quiver and mounted it in his bow. The entire line raised their bows, pulled back the strings to create tension, and arced their arms and shoulders to aim.
Silence. Deafening Silence. William looked at his fellow archers, they were all concentrating on their arrows. They were all wondering if their arrows would hit their mark, they were all wondering if their arrows would leave one less Sphardian to deal with. William took a quick gander at the Sphardians. They were confuzed and tired, they stuck together and stayed in a tight formation. The perfect target for archers.
War cries and war horns in the distance. William could see the Norman line go from a steady, paced march into a battle run. The Sphardians, in all their wisdom, got in an even tighter formation, hoping to stave off the force of the Norman charge.
The war drums beat once again. Ba bum. Ba baum. Ba bum. The archers pulled their arrows break, nearly to the breaking point. BA BOOM. BA BOOM. In a single instance of harmonious action, arrows flew. The arrows flew seamlessly through the arrow, nothing could distract them from their course, nothing could save their marks.
Screams of agony from the Sphardian ranks. William wiped the sweat from his face. He would probably not be needed again for the battle. The archers all sat down and watched. Just as the arrows landed, the Norman line was upon the Sphardians. Although not many died, the remaining Sphardians were dazed and their courage wavered. Their tight cluster broke itself, and disengrated under Norman pressure.